Journey of a Knight
by Dante de Troy
Summary: The Journey of an original hero through the Age of Apocalypse and Beyond CHAPTER 7 IS UP!!!
1. Glimmers

JOURNEY OF A KNIGHT  
  
CHAPTER I. GLIMMERS  
  
(DISCLAIMER: The Age of Apocalypse, The X-Men, Charles Xavier, and all related characters are copyrights of Marvel Comics. The Knight Eagle, in all his various iterations, as well as his teammates, is my own personal creations)  
  
1956  
  
Colin McElros looked out over the stormy waters of the English Channel from his perch atop the main building of the Muir Isle Research Center. Wind whipped through his raven black hair and the salt spray from the water stung his face. His world was turning upside down. It had been months since his son, Jason, had exhibited the first signs of his abilities. He had always felt that there was something special about the boy, from the day he was born. When he first looked into his eyes, there was a spark there, which Colin, in his decades of dealing with men of every sort, had never seen before. He had always wondered exactly what form his son's special destiny would take, but he had never expected this.  
  
"Are you sure, Doctor?"  
  
Charles Xavier nodded his head as he looked at the back of the well- cut suit that McElros wore.  
  
"There cannot be any doubt. I have run every test there is. Your son has the x-factor. He is homo superior; a mutant."  
  
Strain and confusion creased McElros' face. He was used to surprises, and he had been prepared to hear almost any news from the world's most renowned paranormal researcher. Anything but this.  
  
"How is that possible? I have never been exposed to anything even remotely dangerous. No radiation, no stellar energies, nothing, how…"  
  
"Mister McElros, we are still in the early stages of mutant research. We don't know what causes the development of the X-Factor, only that it is completely random, and manifests at puberty. Your son's abilities will continue to grow. I have been planning for some time now to gather young people like your son. I believe that if they can be properly trained, they can be a great boon to society."  
  
McElros turned to Xavier. His keen, dark eyes gazing deep into the powerfully intelligent face of the man before him.  
  
"I thank you for your assistance, Professor Xavier. My son will remain here, with me. He is heir to my fortune and to the empire that I have created here, in my country. He is an Englishman, and will learn to develop these abilities of his here, and benefit his nation."  
  
"As you see fit, sir. I wish you the best. Please remember that the offer is always open."  
  
Xavier handed McElros a thick sheaf of papers in a folder.  
  
"This is all the data that I have gathered on your son. It will assist you in his training. He has the potential to be extraordinarily powerful, Mr. McElros, I advise you to take every possible precaution."  
  
"I will. Thank you."  
  
As Xavier walked back into the building, a young man of 13 came out onto the roof. His dark hair and eyes matched those of the man in front of him. He was a leanly muscle youth, with an energy about him that said he could never be trusted to remain in one place long.  
  
"What do we do, father?"  
  
"We see to your training. Beginning now." McElros turned to his son. "I will see to it that these abilities of yours become the least of what makes you dangerous. You may have power, Jason, but that will only take you so far. Even knowledge of how to use it will not make you all that you can be. Your mind, and the body you were born with are your greatest assets. We will train your mind and, as you master that, your body and powers will follow. But above all, you must remember what we, as a family stand for."  
  
McElros took his son by the shoulders and let him look out at the isle of England across the thin waters that separated it from Muir Isle.  
  
"Ours is an old family, Jason. We have always been stewards of this land. Ours are the hands that built it, ours are the hands that defended it in time of need, and ours are the hands that will guard it in days to come. The time will come when you will defend this land of ours. And you will be ready."  
  
The wind stirred and gusted against them. Jason did not shy away from it. A storm was coming. 


	2. Passings

JOURNEY OF A KNIGHT  
  
CHAPTER II. PASSINGS  
  
(DISCLAIMER: The Age of Apocalypse, The X-Men, Charles Xavier, and all related characters are copyrights of Marvel Comics. The Knight Eagle, in all his various iterations, as well as his teammates, is my own personal creations)  
  
1961  
  
Seventeen-year-old Jason McElros narrowed his eyes and slowed his breathing as he squared off against the man across from him. For the last four years, Colin McElros had located master teachers of every known martial art to school his son. At the same time, he had employed the finest scholars from around the globe to teach young Jason history, mathematics, science, and every other subject that there was a teacher for. The young man in the black gi possessed one of the best-trained minds in the world, and was one of the most formidable hand-to-hand combatants alive. All of this was nothing to Jason as he drew his focus in upon the well-built man opposite him.  
  
"Are you prepared?" The man asked, his voice cool and collected.  
  
"I am. Begin." Jason's almost emotionless voice answered.  
  
The man facing Jason was the world's foremost martial artist, a man by the name of Darren Kingsolver. He had spent his entire life learning everything there was to know about combat, armed and unarmed. The last three years of his life had been spent teaching this young man everything he knew. He had succeeded. Young Jason was among the best… if not the best… martial artists in the world. He was in prime physical condition, his mind and body nearing their peak. Any other man might feel fear facing such a specimen. Darren Kingsolver did not. He had never been beaten, not in the fifteen years since he completed his training. He had faced thieves, murderers, assassins, the worst men that the world had to offer, and he had walked away unscathed. But, as always, Jason would learn from every defeat he suffered at Darren's hands, and would become stronger for it.  
  
Darren struck first, gliding across the hardwood floor (they had long since stopped using mats) with catlike grace. He tested Jason's defenses with a snap kick at head level, easily dodged by the lithe young man. He smiled, satisfied in with his instruction of the young man. He moved in faster now, his hands and feet seemingly in a dozen places at once. Feet and fists flew at Jason from every direction, but the young man's face remained impassive. Darren was surprised at the ease with which his pupil deflected his attacks. Suddenly Jason's right hand shot out, catching Darren by surprise, and impacting directly in the center of the master's chest. The surprised teacher flew backward, slowly rolling his momentum to land on his feet. Face reddening, he raced at Jason now, instruction forgotten in the heat of humiliation. He had not been struck in years, and this impudent wretch had penetrated his defenses without so much as a blink. Anger fueled him as he delivered a staggering series of blows to Jason, driving him to one knee, until finally the young man ceded the match.  
  
"Anger can be a weapon like any other, Jason. An angered man can be one of two things: clumsy and reckless or fiercely dangerous. Beware of both."  
  
Darren walked away, the heat in his face dissipating, leaving Jason kneeling on the mat.  
  
"Another valuable lesson learned at the hands of Master Kingsolver, hmm?"  
  
Colin McElros' rich baritone voice came from a darkened corner of the dojo. The man's temples had grayed in the last few years, giving him a dignity that fit well, despite his still solidly muscled frame. The British business magnate had invested a great deal of money in his son's training, and had always been there, silently overseeing his education.  
  
"I tried my best, sir." Jason clenched his hands around one of the bo staffs leaning against the wall. He absently spun it in his hands, moving through the combinations that had become second nature to him.  
  
"I know you did, son. Despite my reasons for hiring him, Darren Kingsolver is a dangerous man at the top of his form. I do not expect you to be able to beat him." Colin laid a sympathetic hand on his son's shoulder. "You are doing very well, Jason. Truly, you are. I could not be prouder of you." Standing, he pulled Jason close to him and hugged him tightly. "Go get cleaned up now, you need to come with me to that board meeting."  
  
Jason walked out of the main room as Colin watched, leaving the staff behind. Colin knelt and hefted the wooden weapon.  
  
"Feels right, doesn't it, McElros?"  
  
Whirling the staff in his hand, Colin spun around to find the voice that had spoken. Standing near the door where Jason had vanished only moments ago was a tall, slender man in his early fifties, dressed in dark slacks and a brown leather jacket.  
  
"What are you doing here, Riddell?"  
  
The man sidled closer, reaching over to the wall to grab a staff as he passed them.  
  
"Isn't an old friend allowed to visit, Col? After all, it has been sooooo long since you and I had a good talk."  
  
McElros watched with way eyes as Riddell circled the room, never loosing his grip on the staff.  
  
"Whatever you want, forget it. I finished with you a long time ago."  
  
"I told you then and I'll tell you now. We're never finished, McElros. Never. You know what it is that I want, and you will give it to me. Now."  
  
"You have no right to it, as well you know."  
  
"Right matters very little to me. I will have it."  
  
"Over my dead body."  
  
"So be it."  
  
Without warning, Riddell leapt across the room with inhuman speed. His staff came down against Colin's with a resounding crack. McElros strained to keep his balance against the ever-increasing strength of the pressure that Riddell was applying.  
  
"Give in, Keeper. You cannot win."  
  
"You may possess power, Riddell, but not the wisdom to use it. You can never be allowed to wield it."  
  
Riddell whirled, renewing his attack with violent energy. His eyes glowed blue, as did his staff as it cam down once again against Colin's. The uncharged wood splintered without any resistance, and Riddell's staff came down cleanly against McElros' head, splitting the skin.  
  
"What did a man once say, McElros? 'Power without wisdom is dangerous, and wisdom without power is useless.' That is what you are. You are useless, and therefore have long overstayed your welcome on this plane."  
  
Whirling his staff again, Riddell whipped it across McElros' face, sending blood and teeth flying. The injure man tried feebly to raise his hands to defend himself, but they were merely slapped away with a flick of the staff. McElros lay sprawled on the floor, Riddell poised to drive the staff home when a second staff came hurtling from the doorway. Screaming ferociously as he darted across the room, Jason leapt the length of the distance between himself and his father's assailant.  
  
"Jason… no…" McElros wheezed from the floor. "Run…"  
  
The boy ignored his father's whispered warnings, and his eyes took on a slight purple glow as he met Riddell blow for blow. The impassivity that his face had borne when he faced Kingsolver was gone, replaced now by an almost feral rage. He would not stop. When Riddell split the wooden staff, Jason took up the two halves and continued his assault, ever so slowly driving the bigger man back. Abruptly, Riddell ended it, leaping backwards into a guarded stance.  
  
"I am not ready for you, stripling. Be assured, next time we meet, I will be. Until then."  
  
Riddell vanished as a ghost, his form becoming transparent and then… nothing. Dripping in sweat, Jason dropped the staves and rushed to where his father was still laying, blood slowly dripping from the corner of his mouth.  
  
"I have to get you to a hospital, father…"  
  
"No Jason. He was right. I have outstayed my welcome. I am being called home. Stay the course. You have a destiny to fulfill. We shall meet again, my son. I will always be watching…"  
  
The light in Colin McElros' eyes went out, replaced by the vacant glassy stare of death. His hand, which he had raised to Jason's cheek, dropped to the floor. Kneeling there, the young mutant wept without end. 


	3. Eagle's Night

JOURNEY OF A KNIGHT  
  
CHAPTER III. EAGLE'S NIGHT  
  
(DISCLAIMER: The Age of Apocalypse, The X-Men, Charles Xavier, and all related characters are copyrights of Marvel Comics. The Knight Eagle, in all his various iterations, as well as his teammates, is my own personal creations)  
  
1967  
  
"I don't care what it takes, but you have to move on it now."  
  
"But, Jason…"  
  
"Don't give me any buts, Leon, just get it done."  
  
Stalking away, Jason Lane McElros, CEO McElros International, undid the buttons of his suit jacket and opened the door to his office. Running a hand through his hair, he dropped down heavily into the chair behind his desk. It had been nearly a year since he had finished business school and taken over the day-to-day management of M.I. Now it seemed as if every day was consumed with board meetings and meetings with various consultants. Colin's death six years before had sent shockwaves rippling through the national economy. It had taken years for M.I. to recover from the backlash of losing its head. As long as it had taken, the task was complete, and Jason sat at the head of one of the most powerful companies in the world.  
  
Sitting at his desk, Jason looked out the window as the sun set over downtown London. In the past two years, the city had become a haven for a new breed of criminal. London PD had been struggling to meet the demands put on it by the increasing number of superhuman crimes. The "Mutant Problem" had reached the English shore, and there was no solution in sight.  
  
"'If you're not a part of the solution, you're a part of the problem.'" Platitudes from business school, he thought, but strangely fitting in this case. "Time to be a part of the solution."  
  
He took a set of car keys from his desk and changed out of the suit into street clothes, jeans and a brown leather jacket. As he headed toward the personal service elevator, he tapped a wall panel intercom.  
  
"Evelyn, hold the rest of my calls for the day. I have some things that I need to finish. If Stark calls, tell him I'll speak with him tomorrow."  
  
He slipped on a pair of sunglasses and rode the elevator down to the employee-level garages, where he climbed into a late model brown sedan, hardly the kind of car you would expect one of the ten wealthiest men in the world to ride around in. The nondescript car rolled out onto the streets of rush-hour London. Jason navigated through the traffic of downtown, turning down side streets and alleys until he reached a portion of the city that the traffic didn't reach. The immediate skyline had changed from towers of steel and glass to squat warehouses and docks. He stopped the sedan in front of plain looking warehouse and got out. He pulled a key from the jacket pocket and turned it in a lock by the large cargo door. The door slid up and Jason climbed back into the car, pulling it just inside. A pressure plate in the floor closed the door as Jason got out once again, headed for the freight elevator in the rear of the building. Stepping in, he placed his hand on the seemingly plain panel below the elevator's control buttons, causing it to light up as it recognized his palm-print. The elevator doors slid shut and Jason could hear the metal plating below opening. Had anyone pried open the shaft door, they would have found only a concrete slab below the ground floor. That slab slid away to reveal metal doors, which opened, letting the elevator descend.  
  
Moments later the elevator door rolled up to reveal a clean, well- lit, expansive space. A variety of workbenches were neatly lined against the walls. At the center of the room was a gleaming black custom motorcycle that Jason had built himself. It was one of a kind. Jason had commissioned the parts in secret from a variety of McElros plants across the globe, never having more than one made in any one place. Every surface was glossy black, even the exhaust pipes that slid seamlessly out from the sides. It was an engineering marvel, capable of speeds over 160 miles per hour and almost completely silent.  
  
Passing by the bike, Jason stopped in front of a simple looking wardrobe. He pulled open the door and removed his "working clothes". He slid on the black utility pants, and then tied the black boots. He tugged on a thick black turtleneck sweater, then looked for a moment at the last few items in the wardrobe. There was a pair of black leather gloves, their balms thick with padding and insulation. He pulled them on. He removed a black leather jacket, which he slipped on. When he had zipped it up, the figure of a white bird stitched on the chest became clear. The last item was the mask. It was solid black, with two white opaque eyeholes cut into it. Inside it was fitted with dozens of small electronic devices, from a police band radio in the ear, to a voice distorter where the mouth would be. He held it in his hands for a moment. He had trained for years to come to this point. It was now time. He slid the mask over his head and tugged it into place. He turned to the mirror on the wardrobe door and looked. Jason McElros had vanished, replaced by a menacing figure.  
  
Striding to the motorcycle, he climbed on and put on the helmet hanging from the handlebars, a near-match to the facemask.  
  
"Go." He said, and the optic connection between the helmet and the bike's engine sent the signal to start. The powerful engine roared to life and the bike raced forward into a dark tunnel. The Night Eagle rode to meet destiny. 


	4. Expansion

JOURNEY OF A KNIGHT  
  
CHAPTER IV. EXPANSION  
  
(DISCLAIMER: The Age of Apocalypse, The X-Men, Charles Xavier, and all related characters are copyrights of Marvel Comics. The Knight Eagle, in all his various iterations, as well as his teammates, is my own personal creations)  
  
1969  
  
SIGHTINGS OF MASKED MEN ABOUND  
  
November 1, 1969  
  
By: Nathan Fitzpatrick  
  
It seems that the youth of London are not the only ones to have put on costumes and masks this All Hallows Eve. For the past 18 months, Scotland Yard and London PD have been reporting the activities of a number of mysterious vigilantes, most particularly one calling himself the Night Eagle. During that time, this self-proclaimed hero has been responsible for the decrease in activity by organized crime families operating in the area of the city, as well as the arrest of several known super-powered criminals.  
  
Last night, while on patrol, officer Blake Carrington reported spotting a man in all black crouched atop the roof of a warehouse on the harbor. Thinking the man a burglar, Carrington requested backup, which was promptly dispatched. Carrington entered the warehouse and was set upon by agents of the Fuseli crime family, which had been conducting an illegal arms transaction on the premises. Moments later, the mysterious man in black apparently broke through the skylight of the building and, with some assistance from officer Carrington, broke up the transaction and disabled the criminals. After securing those involved in the transaction, the masked man "vanished into thin air", according to Carrington, leaving a note giving the authorities the location of the family's main center of operation.  
  
During his recent time of operation, the Night Eagle (as he calls himself in his notes) has had to evade not only those criminal factions whose actions he has impeded, but legitimate law enforcement authorities as well. Apparently, this is no longer to be the case. In a unanimous decision this morning, the city council instructed Police Comissioner G. Harcourt Finley to officially deputize the Night Eagle, who will hereby be authorized to operate in the city at his discretion. This decision has drawn criticism from a number of sides…  
  
  
  
Jason allowed himself a small smile as he closed the paper. He had been lucky. That idiot Carrington has quite nearly spoiled the entire operation. He was lucky that the man hadn't totally botched things. All in all, it was a day of mixed feelings. He was glad to have been "legitimized" by the authorities, but he still felt as if he were doing too little. Hopefully, recent developments in M.I.'s research and development department would help him achieve a bit more.  
  
Retrieving his jacket from the back of his chair, he buttoned it down and headed downstairs, where he had his driver take him to the Excalibur Point Research Labs, a firm he had recently purchased, not so much for its potential to help McElros International, but for the possibilities it held for the Night Eagle. The driver parked the car and Jason strode into the main lobby of the labs, looking dapper in a finely tailored Armani suit. There were two technicians in lab coats awaiting him when he walked in, one of who handed him a white coat that matched theirs.  
  
"Mr. McElros, we've prepared a tour for you. If you'll just follow us."  
  
"Thank you Dr. Winston, but I know my way around already. If you need me, you should be able to reach me via intercom."  
  
For a moment, neither Winston nor his assistant moved. Jason fixed his eyes on Winston and removed the sunglasses that he had been wearing up until then.  
  
"I'm sure that you have something important to do, don't you Dr. Winston?"  
  
Winston did a bit of a jump and scurried off to do some task. Grinning a bit evilly, Jason tucked the sunglasses into his jacket pocket and walked to the elevators. If he remembered correctly, the cybernetics lab was on the fifth level sub-basement. He stepped in and the elevator hummed downward surprisingly quickly, and the doors hissed open. Bustling about before him were dozens of scientists and technicians. Laid out on tables and underneath bright lights were billion-parted pieces of machinery, each so intricate that it seemed almost organic. At the center of the semi- chaotic bustle of people was a coal-black man in his early thirties, goggles strapped around his neck, clipboard in his hand, and eagerly giving instructions to one of the jump-suited technicians.  
  
"Dr. Mailzel, I presume."  
  
The man turned to Jason and his face bore a confused note for a moment, and then lit up with recognition.  
  
"Jason McElros, correct?"  
  
"That's right. I came down to meet you, Doctor."  
  
Mailzel bowed and then extended his hand.  
  
"Richard Mailzel. I read that you had acquired the lab, Mr. McElros, and I must say I have been wondering exactly what is going to happen here."  
  
"Well, to be perfectly honest, Doctor, I do have some rather extensive plans for this division. If we could step into your office…"  
  
Mailzel guided Jason into his office and offered him the seat in front of his desk.  
  
"I will be perfectly honest with you, Doctor. I have been looking, for some time to expand the scope of my company's operations. I have been pursuing contracts with the Ministry of Defense, in particular. What I am asking from this department… well… let me ask you first. I have familiarized myself with your early work on exoskeletal strength enhancement. Have you done any further development along those lines?"  
  
Mailzel shook his head.  
  
"I'm afraid that after I finished my contracts with the military, I put that part of my work aside. Most of what we have been focused on here has been along the lines of prosthetics."  
  
"I see. Well, there are definitely applications there that I can apply. I would like you to draw up some ideas for me over the next few months. Begin exploring along those lines."  
  
Jason stood and shook hands with Mailzel again.  
  
"I won't take up any more of your time Doctor. I should be by fairly regularly, and if there is anything you need, be sure you let me know."  
  
Jason walked out. Mailzel waited for a moment, then collapsed into his chair with a heavy sigh. When McElros had started asking questions about exoskeletal work, Richard had thought for sure he had been discovered. He had been heavily involved in the original construction of this lab, and had made sure that a secret compartment had been added just behind his office. Touching a specific panel on his desk, the blinds to the office sealed and the back wall slid open. Encased behind Plexiglas was a black bodysuit trimmed with what seemed to be three-centimeter-thick gold. The lines of gold ran down the neck of the suit, then the arms, down the sides of the ribcage, then down the legs, encircling them at key points. It was a super-flexible exoskeleton, which almost tripled the strength of the wearer. In the metal of the facemask were infrared sensors, police-band radio, and one of the most powerful minicomputers in the world. Just recently, Richard had added anti-gravity generators, fresh from the applied physics labs on the third level. For several weeks, he had been testing the suit in the city at night. Had McElros discovered it, he was sure that the CEO would have curtailed Richard's "nighttime activities". For the past few days, he had begun hearing rumors on the streets from some of the small-time criminals that he had apprehended that the Fuseli crime family was planning something big. He didn't know what yet…  
  
  
  
Fuseli looked down at the weapons arrayed before him.  
  
"All of them useless. My men are at the mercy of this Night Eagle. You are sure that you can handle him?"  
  
Lifting his long steel staff in his hand, the man resting in the shadows behind the mob leader laughed.  
  
"I've never failed, Fuseli. The Night Eagle will be dead by the end of the week."  
  
"You had better be right, Riddell." 


	5. Expansion Pt. II

JOURNEY OF A KNIGHT  
  
CHAPTER V. EXPANSION PART II  
  
(DISCLAIMER: The Age of Apocalypse, The X-Men, Charles Xavier, and all related characters are copyrights of Marvel Comics. The Knight Eagle, in all his various iterations, as well as his teammates, is my own personal creations)  
  
1969  
  
Jason crouched atop the battlements of the aged redbrick warehouse. One of his informants had told him that the Fuselis were attempting to run another shipment of high tech weapons from the States. He had trailed one of their lead "runners" to this location. Rumor had it that Santino Fuseli, Georgio Fuseli's oldest son, would be here tonight. The American FBI, Interpol, and Scotland Yard all had Santino under investigation in relation to a number of killings both in England and abroad. If he could be concretely connected to this weapons shipment, then the Fuseli family would be dealt a major blow that might make them seriously reconsider trying to expand operations into Britain. The only thing confusing him at the moment was the lack of security on the roof. They had to know by now that was how he had entered before. He had spent the past several days trying to figure out how to vary his approach and catch them off guard, but this was too easy.  
  
He unzipped one of the small pouches on his right glove and removed the small microphone from its protective casing. "Mic on." The murmured command activated the small device, which he pointed toward the skylight.  
  
"I'm telling you, Sunny, this is not a good idea." Sunny. Obviously Santino, then, and someone who felt comfortable addressing him as such.  
  
"Please shut up, you idiot. Everything is going to work perfectly to plan, and we can get out of here and go home." That was Santino then. The "idiot" comment made the other one a crony, if a high ranking one.  
  
"Uneasy, Fuseli?" A new voice, very arrogant.  
  
"You certainly took long enough. Let's get this over with." Santino again.  
  
"And the other problem?"  
  
"That's being dealt with as we speak."  
  
The microphone suddenly emitted a high-pitched squeal and Jason slapped a hand down on his wrist, cutting off the sound manually, without even thinking about using the voice control. What the hell was that? He had checked the equipment before going out tonight, so something had to have caused it.  
  
"Surprise!" He heard the shout from behind him and could not turn fast enough to stop the boot that flew in his direction. It caught him clean in the back of the head and sent him sprawling across the rooftop. Had the angle been even slightly different, he would have been sent hurtling into the open air beyond the wall. He rolled backwards and sprang to his feet as his assailant rushed at him, he narrowly avoided the fists coming at him in rapid succession.  
  
"Who are you?" Jason launched himself backward in a flip, trying to gain some distance between himself and his inhumanly fast attacker.  
  
"That's for me to know and you to wonder about from the grave. Suffice it to say that the Fuselis wanted you out of their hair and I'm here to see to that." He reached behind him and removed two wrist blades from sheathes that must have been concealed on his dark blue jumpsuit. He lunged, the blades very narrowly missing Jason's torso and face. Spinning to the side, Jason reached into one of the compartments on his belt and removed what appeared, at first glance, to be a small can, about three- quarters the size of a soda can. He held it out in front of him, and let a little of his power seep into the can. Inside, the air molecules accelerated, heating up and causing the layers of metal within to shoot outward, expanding the can to a length of seven feet; a battle staff.  
  
"A nice toy, that. I'll have to add it to my collection when I've killed you."  
  
"Are you going to talk about it or do it?"  
  
"If you are so eager, then so be it."  
  
Very shortly after the death of his father, Jason had begun to discover one of the uses of his X-Factor. He had a power over motion. He could absorb what seemed to be limitless amounts of kinetic energy, and redirect it as he chose. He also had the ability to endow objects with that energy, imbuing them with extra strength and speed. A purplish glow ran up the length of the metal staff as Jason released a greater amount of his power into its surface and whirled it in the direction of his attacker. The man had not been expecting this, and the first blow very nearly took him clean in the head. Had he been a normal man, it would have, but the inhuman reflexes he had allowed him to just barely bring up one of his blades in time to stop the staff. The blade, being a thinner metal, bent backwards with the force of the blow, but by that time, the man had shifted his head to avoid the staff.  
  
"Well, well. This will be an unexpected treat. Nothing I'd seen indicated you were anything more than a normal person with a penchant for putting his nose where it doesn't belong, but this… a challenge… I will enjoy killing you."  
  
"I've heard it."  
  
Jason attacked in earnest now, his staff flying at the man, who was now on the defensive, raising his one remaining blade and the other gauntleted fist to meet blow after blow, ever retreating. The whole time, Jason could not help but feel that there was something strangely familiar about the man's style. He realized, suddenly, that, at the rate this was going, the Fuselis would be long gone by the time this duel had finished. He had no time. He switched the staff to one hand and, in a sudden, fluid motion dropped to one knee and put a hand to the ground, resting it on the piece of roofing that his attacker was standing on. The metal lurched as a purplish glow enveloped it, hurling his attacker into the air. Jason launched himself upward and found himself dodging a streak of black and gold that appeared, seemingly from nowhere and crashed into the assailant. The black and gold figure, which revealed itself to be a man, wrapped its arms around the waist of the attacker and whipped it over his head in a move that looked to be straight out of a wrestling textbook, causing his head to collide with the sheet metal of the warehouse roof. The figure did not move.  
  
A metallically distorted voice came from within the black and gold mask.  
  
"He's done. I injected him with a tranquilizer. The Fuselis are still to be dealt with."  
  
"I suppose I should say 'thank you'."  
  
"It is customary."  
  
"Thank you. You going home?"  
  
"Hadn't planned on it."  
  
"Then follow me."  
  
Jason ran across the rooftop, leaving the unconscious attacker behind him, and launched himself into the air, giving himself a slight boost with the staff. He looked behind him just as he leapt and saw the golden-clad man following, rising off the ground and whizzing overhead. Jason's trajectory was carefully plotted, and he rapidly descended toward the glass skylight of the warehouse. Clasping staff with both hands, he crashed through the glass, hit the floor rolling and came up, swinging the staff in a broad arc that caught Santino Fuseli's henchman in its path, sending him flying across the room.  
  
"Good evening. Party's over."  
  
"But… but…" Santino stammered.  
  
"He's laying out cold. Better ask for a refund, Sunny."  
  
"Raze might be an incompetent fool, but if you think I'm not prepared for this, you're wrong. Dead wrong."  
  
"Oh, please, Fuseli, spare me the…" Jason looked around him and heard the tell-tale click of automatic weapons being cocked.  
  
"See you in hell, Night Eagle."  
  
"Not just yet!" Came a bellow from above. The roar of airjets accompanied the gold and black shape of the man who had helped Jason on the roof. The thugs looked up for a moment, a long enough time for Jason to launch himself at the nearest steel pillar and dodge behind it as machine gun fire ripped through the air.  
  
The main floor of the warehouse was chaos. Men fired at the golden man, only to have their fire scattered in every conceivable direction. Some tried to rush him, but were met with the stiff resistance of the Night Eagle's staff. I mere moments, dozens of thugs lay scattered about the floor, and Santino Fuseli and the two vigilantes were the only men left standing.  
  
"What'll it be Sunny?"  
  
Fusei reached into his pocket and pulled a snub-nosed revolver out. It flew from his hand and into the hand of the man in the gold and black suit. Simultaneously, a bird shaped dart flew from its place on Jason's gauntlet and hit Santino firmly in the forehead, knocking him unconscious.  
  
Looking around them, the two heroes grinned beneath their masks.  
  
"Well. That worked out rather well." The gold clad man said.  
  
"I'd say so. Did you plan on telling me who you are?"  
  
"Well, I'd thought of calling myself GoldenBlade. I'll assume you are the 'Night Eagle' that I've read so much about in the papers."  
  
"You'd be correct. And thank you for your help on the roof."  
  
"You appeared to have things well in hand, I just thought I'd expedite the process a bit."  
  
"You're welcome to expedite the process any time you feel. I think we should secure these boys and call in the authorities."  
  
"You're the experienced super-hero."  
  
The two men made quick work of the thugs and watched from the rooftop as London PD and Scotland Yard quickly descended on the scene. The man that Fuseli had called Raze had vanished when they returned to the roof.  
  
"Apparently the tranquilizer wasn't as strong as I thought it was."  
  
"I wouldn't worry over it. I'm fairly certain that very little about my sparring partner was normal."  
  
"I see. Well, I suppose I'm off. It was a pleasure working with you." GoldenBlade turned and walked toward the edge of the rooftop.  
  
"And you. I'll be in touch." Jason said with a smile.  
  
"How did you plan to do that?" There was no response. The Night Eagle had vanished.  
  
  
  
THE NEXT DAY  
  
Richard rubbed at his eyes as he sipped a cup of coffee. These long nights had taken their toll on him. He was glad that Fuseli was done with. But there HAD been a certain thrill in dealing with those thugs by hand. He hadn't had that much fun since boxing at prep school. He keyed in the code to his office door, which opened with a swish. He nearly dropped the cup of coffee when his desk chair swiveled around to reveal a grinning Jason McElros, well groomed and alert.  
  
"Good morning, Doctor."  
  
Richard tried to school his face, though he knew that McElros must know something.  
  
"Good morning, Mr. McElros. To what do I owe the pleasure."  
  
"I just thought I'd check up on you doctor." McElros was tapping his fingers on the desktop, coming dangerously close to touching the panel that would open the secret compartment. "I heard that you'd been working late hours the last few days."  
  
"Well… um… with you taking over, I thought I'd ah… better get the department in order."  
  
"I see. Well. That was really all I wanted to see you about. See that you take care of yourself doctor. I wouldn't want to lose a valuable member of my team here. An valuable ally, so to speak." He stood and walked toward the door, patting Richard on the back. "I'll be in touch."  
  
The door swished shut behind him. Richard heaved a sigh of relief, then thought of what McElros had said.  
  
" 'I'll be in touch'?" His eyes widened and he rushed out the door to follow McElros, but the young man had vanished. "Well I'll be damned." 


	6. Gather Them In, The Table Round

JOURNEY OF A KNIGHT  
  
CHAPTER VI. "GATHER THEM IN, THE TABLE ROUND..."  
  
(DISCLAIMER: The Age of Apocalypse, The X-Men, Charles Xavier, and all related characters are copyrights of Marvel Comics. The Knight Eagle, in all his various iterations, as well as his teammates, is my own personal creations)  
  
1972  
  
London Times - Front Page  
  
"Today, on what is sure to be one of the most remembered dates in British history, the group known as the Round Table has revealed itself to the public. For the last tableseveral years, increased supercriminal activity in the British Isles has been countered with increasing difficulty by conventional police forces, often only with the aid of the Night Eagle, as well as other heretofore unconfirmed superhumans. At 10:41, shortly after this morning's session of Parliment had been called to order, the proceedings were disrupted as a group calling themselves Morgan's Legacy attacked the House of Lords. The criminal assemblage, led by a villain calling herself LeFaye (obviously a reference to the Arthurian Morgan LeFaye) announced that the Houses were to be disbanded and that they, the Legacy, would assume control of the UK. Bare moments later, the Legacy was set upon by the Night Eagle and several unknown superhumans. In a swift and decisive battle, Night Eagle's group put paid to the criminals, and handed them over to Scotland Yard. A special joint session of Parliment has been convened, by request of her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, to address public outcry for these heros to be recognized for their valour..."  
  
Jason sat at head of the empty table, reading, a supremely satisfied look on his face. He had been operating with this team for months, quietly quelling organized crime activity and superhuman activity in the Isles. Originally, he'd had no intention of revealing the team's existence to the public, but LeFaye's actions in broad daylight had left them no choice. He'd feared that the government would not only not extend the team the same courtesy it had him, but would instead issue sanctions against its members. He was glad to be disappointed.  
  
He stood and paced around the room. Since he'd purchased the Excalibur Point facility, he'd always intended it to become the base of operations for his... unofficial activities. When he'd begun recruiting others to join him in his work, it had become the base of that new team as well. He walked to the broad, curved window that circled the room. He'd bulit up the facility in the last two years, adding a tall tower at the center, overlooking the tumultuous sea.  
  
"Hell of a view, Jason."  
  
Jason turned and smiled as Richard stepped away from the elevator. The thickly muscled researcher had been the technical mastermind behind the highly sophisticated systems that made up the home of the team.  
  
"That it is. I assume you've read the news?"  
  
Richard nodded and moved to stand beside Jason.  
  
"Do you think they'll do it?"  
  
"Well, we did save their collective noble asses."  
  
Richard chuckled.  
  
"No denying that. Still, this would be a first. Most people like us still have to operate in secret, avoiding police. You're the lucky one. You've been the poster boy for super heros since you came on the scene years ago."  
  
"Some poster boy. Most of the police are more afraid of me than of those we bring in. If this does go through, then that's going to have to change."  
  
"I understand. Still, you don't need to go around telling jokes, if that's what you're considering."  
  
"I should hope not!" A new voice heartily echoed from the back of the room. "That's my job."  
  
Niles Ellis, the Courtier. Jason and Richard had found him prowling the areas near Buckingham Palace late at night, havng stumbled onto a plot to bomb the Palace. He'd begun working with them regularly after that. He was a slight man, wiry and agile. In battle he carried a thin rapier and bounced around in his gaudy red and blue costume, remniscent of a 17th century court jester's outfit, hence, his name. Jason was glad for his exuberant (if oft irritating) presence, for he lent a lightness of hear to the team, and could always be counted on for a smile.  
  
"You chaps discussing what the bigwigs'll do, no?"  
  
"We were. What do you think?" Richard asked softly.  
  
"They'd bloody well better do it. We deserve it, I think. Those Legacy cretins were no creampuffs, not by a long shot."  
  
"You'll get no argument from me." Jason replied, slowly moving back to the table. "One question is, how do we go about things if they do decide to recognize us?"  
  
"We continue to do as we have done." A soft, melodious voice came from the center of the room as a glowing portal closed. Such was the chosen method of entrance for Mystick the team's resident sorceress. She'd sought out Jason shortly after the failed bombing where they'd met Courtier. They knew little of her civilian life, but her magic gave the team a much appreciated boost in strength, and she'd definitely proven her worth in the recent battle with the Legacy. Arriving with her was the newest addition to the ranks, Chorus. She had appeared only weeks ago, at the height of a pitched battle with the corrupted spirit of the Black Knight, pitching in and earning herself a place within the team. She spoke little, but when she did, the others listened. Though seemingly only in her early twenties, she displayed an understanding of events that bordered on supernatural, as did her ability to manipulate sound.  
  
"Well, we're all here, aren't we?" Jason said, looking around the room. "The question is before us, then. What do we do if the government recognizes us? It would be ideal to operate as we have in the past months, but the attention we have gained as a result of this makes us a target, and official sanction from London will only exacerabate the matter."  
  
"None of us is afraid of attention, or those who might seek to bring us down." Richard stated bluntly, and murmers of assent came from around the table.  
  
"You're all agreed, then?" Nods. "Very well. Now we wait."  
  
  
They did not have to wait long. The public demand was so great that it could not be ignored, and every legislator knew it. Combined with a personal appeal from the Queen, there was no other choice. At noon, the Queen Mother stood before a crowd of thousands gathered in front of Buckingham Palace.  
  
"We know today, of forces beyond our comprehension that work to bring this great country to itsr maje knees. These evil menaces work to destroy what centuries of work have built. However, as in days past, heros arise to combat evil, and as in legend, they stride forth, triumphant. It is therefore decreed that these men and women, led by the man known only as the Night Eagle, be granted recognition and power of law within this nation's bounds. We call on them to defend this isle in time of need, to protect us from evil, if they have the will."  
  
A rumble echoed through the open space and light filled it as one of Mystick's portals opened in midair. Four of the team passed through and the portal closed, with only Night Eagle missing.  
  
"We see only four," Elizabeth called. "Where is your leader?"  
  
"Sorry to be late, your majesty!" Jason's deep voice echoed from atop the Palace. His black uniform was gone, replaced by one of solid white which bore armor plating over the shoulders, and a glittering silver belt. The full-face mask remained, but adorned with a helmet, also silver. In recent months, Jason had discovered that his powers lent themselves to controlling his own motion, and as he leapt from the Palace's peak, he slowed his descent to land smoothly in front of his teammates.  
  
"A special occasion calls for a change of attire."  
  
The Queen sent a thin smile down. "It meets with our approval, sir. Approach, all of you."  
  
The five heros made their way toward the daias and stopped in front of the Queen.  
  
"You five have proven youselves worthy of the task and honor which is to be bestowed upon you, yet we know little of you. What are we to call you?"  
  
Jason looked to the others for approval, and, at their nods, steped forward.  
  
"Only one assemblage of heros, real or imaginary, has ever had this honor, your Majesty, therefore, we ask to follow in their steps, as the Round Table."  
  
"A fitting name, Night Eagle. However, with this name must come a change for you, as well. Step forward and kneel."  
  
A bit confused, Jason stepped forward. Prince Philip handed the Queen a long-bladed sword.  
  
"If you are to lead this band, sir, then you will do it as those you name yourselves did. Therefore, I hereby dub the Knight of the Round Table. Arise, sir Knight."  
  
Jason stood and turned to face the crowd. A cheer went up from all assembled, and the sun shone brightly as the five heros basked in the glory of their new honor. Of all assembled, only Chorus did not smile. Unseen by her teammates, a single tear slid down her cheek as she saw Jason shining in the sun. Only she knew what was to come.... 


	7. Distances

JOURNEY OF A KNIGHT  
  
CHAPTER VII. "Distance"  
  
(DISCLAIMER: The Age of Apocalypse, The X-Men, Charles Xavier, and all related characters are copyrights of Marvel Comics. The Knight Eagle, in all his various iterations, as well as his teammates, is my own personal creations)  
  
1976  
  
"Knight to all crew. Flight readiness check."  
  
Thousands were scattered across the broad countryside that surrounded the techno-castle home of the Round Table as steam billowed from the hyper- cooled rocket-craft on the launch pad. With a small assist from the Royal Air Force, the Round Table had succeeded in convincing Parliament to allow them to test the Guenivere prototype. She carried onboard her an experimental hyper drive that, if successful, would catapult her out of the solar system and into the depths of space. The entirety of the Round Table's roster was aboard, with their support personnel carrying out the duties of mission control.  
  
GoldenBlade was the first to check in, his voice ringing clear from the copilot's station.  
  
"All hatches are secure. Conventional propulsion is go. Hyper drive is secure and locked down." He turned and nodded to Jason. "GoldenBlade is go."  
  
"Environmental systems are fully functional. Mystick is go."  
  
Of all the crew, Mystick was the uneasiest in the Guenivere. She disliked technology as a whole, and mistrusted those who relied too heavily on it. She and Richard had been through many heated conversations on the subject. But even the resident sorceress wouldn't pass up the chance to journey to the stars.  
  
"Navigational systems check out. We are synced with global navigation satellites, NASA systems, and RAF monitoring stations. Tallyho!"  
  
Courtier managed, as always, to inject his personal brand of tension-relief into the situation. The cheery swashbuckler had, as yet, failed to wipe away the childlike grin that had been pasted to his face since he'd found out that the mission was going through.  
  
"Radiation shielding and scientific instrumentation check out, Knight. I'm good to go."  
  
The soft voice from aft was that of Marie "Motion" Vala, the newest member of the Round Table. She had joined only a year before the Guenivere mission had been approved, but her presence in the group had caused a remarkable change, most particularly in the demeanor of Knight. For nearly that entire year, Marie and Jason had been living together in his London apartments. There had been no official announcement yet, but the two planned to be married shortly after the Guenivere returned. The Queen had already assured Jason that Westminster Abbey was the least she could offer. For the last four years, since the recognition of the Round Table, a sense of magic and wonder had overtaken Britain. It seemed as if the nation were finally reclaiming a lost heritage, a piece of her history that many had thought vanished forever.  
  
The last member of the group to check in was Chorus. She was seated in the rear, near Marie, in front of the communications station. Richard had expressed some concern about the abnormally increased silence of the reclusive woman. She had never been talkative, but since the announcement of the flight, she had become almost completely withdrawn from the rest of the team. Even now, all she mustered was a slight nod to Marie, who informed Jason that they were, at last, ready to fly.  
  
"Guenivere to Excalibur Point Flight Control, all systems are go for launch."  
  
"Copy Guenivere, we concur. All systems five by five. Commencing ignition sequence."  
  
Outside, the crowd took a collective step back as a deep, low rumble began to emanate from the bowels of the launch pad. Smoke belched from the confinement of the launch gantry as the Guenivere's engines came to life.  
  
"Guenivere is go for launch. Clearing moorings. Boosters firing in three. two. one. FIRE!"  
  
Flames as bright as creation flared around the space craft as she shot skyward, climbing ever higher, until she vanished from the sight of those below  
  
"All systems reading green. Detaching boosters now."  
  
An audible thud echoed through the Guenivere's cabin as the large solid fuel boosters fell away from the craft, leaving her free to fly under her own power.  
  
"Status report." Jason asked Richard.  
  
"All systems read operational. We're clear of Earth's gravity and flying free."  
  
"All right. Let's bring the jump engine online."  
  
They ran through another set of checks, then headed into the rear section of the ship where their technical masterpiece was housed. In cooperation with Reed Richards, McElros International had funded the development of the first fully operational hyperspace jump drive. The Guenivere was to be the first ship to test it, carrying her heroic crew to the far reaches of space.  
  
"Looks like we're ready to fire her up, Jason."  
  
"All right. Recheck the power feeds and then lets do this."  
  
The other members of the Round Table watched Jason and Richard head into the cockpit with great anticipation. Like their namesakes, they were about to head off on a great quest that could lead mankind into a new age of space exploration.  
  
"All right everyone. Stand by for jump."  
  
Jason unlocked the casing covering the hyperdrive's initiation controls.  
  
"Hyperspace in five seconds."  
  
A hum went through the ship as the jump engine powered up and suddenly they were awash in a maelstrom of color and energy, hurtling at unimaginable speeds.  
  
"Navigation report!"  
  
"The instruments are totally offline, I have no idea where we are or where we're going, but we're getting there damned fast."  
  
They turned with a start as they saw a blotch in the color stream of hyperspace. A dark black cloud of some sort was moving toward them.  
  
"What is it, Jason?"  
  
"I don't know, but it doesn't look friendly."  
  
"Can we turn to avoid it?"  
  
"All flight controls are offline." Jason tightened his harness. "Everyone brace for impact!"  
  
The ship hit the cloud and everything went black.  
  
"Where."  
  
The members of the Round Table slowly moved back into consciousness, realizing that the shifting colors of hyperspace were gone.  
  
"Richard," Jason started. "See if you can get the navigational computer back up. I want to know where we are. Is everyone all right?"  
  
There were assorted nods and groans from the crew deck, as everyone got re- oriented.  
  
"Jason, this is unbelievable. We're over one hundred light years from Earth."  
  
"Any idea where?"  
  
"I'm still trying to get the star charts to line up."  
  
Courtier had moved up to the flight deck.  
  
"Maybe they know." He said as he pointed out the front view port.  
  
Jason and Richard whirled and saw before them a massive spacecraft, moving toward them with a purpose.  
  
"Send a greeting, all frequencies!"  
  
Before they could send their message, another message boomed over the ship's loudspeakers.  
  
"This is the Shi'Ar Imperial Vessel Crownbearer, you will disarm all weapons and prepare to be boarded."  
  
"Dear." Said Courtier. "This can't be good."  
  
"We don't have the weaponry to go head to head with them in a fight, and the hyperdrive is still offline." Richard said quietly.  
  
"Then we play a different game." Jason said grimly.  
  
Moments later there was a loud thud as a grappling beam took hold of the Guenivere. The heroes aboard her were already un-stowing their battle gear.  
  
Jason looked out the front viewport and saw a swarm of armored soldiers taking position around the ship.  
  
"All right, here's the plan." Knight Eagle snapped his helmet down into place as the ship slid into the Crownbearer's docking bay. "Split them down the middle, I'm on point, GoldenBlade is airborne if there's space, ramming maneuver to clear the path for the rest of us. Chorus, I want them disoriented. Mystick, see if you can't weave a non-aggression spell on the troops. Courtier, Motion, you'll hang back and keep trying to bring the hyperdrive back up. Everyone got it?"  
  
There were nods all around and the team's heavy hitters assembled in a small wedge near the aft hatch. They could hear the troops attempting to open it from the outside.  
  
"Almost got it."  
  
The Shi'Ar were completely unprepared for what burst forth from the hatch as it opened. The roar of GoldenBlade's rockets startled the soldiers for the brief second that they had before the armored warrior shot forward, plowing through their ranks. Jason was on his heels, leaping into the fray, battle staff twirling at impossible speeds. Just as they began to draw their bearings, an incredibly high pitched shriek echoed through the bay, bringing soldiers to their knees. Those few soldiers that remained standing began dropping their weapons on the floor as the greenish glow of Mystick's spell washed over them. The Round Table stood amidst the carnage they had wrought and watched as the large cargo doors at the other end of the bay opened.  
  
"Impressive, for aliens. But your fine efforts were wasted, I'm afraid. You will all surrender now or face the consequences."  
  
Hundreds more troops spilled forth from the open door, but they weren't what had the Earthers in shock. Walking through the lane that the troops had left was one of the most physically intimidating forms any of them had ever seen. He was garbed in blue and red, with a crest of hair topping his head.  
  
"I am Gladiator, and you are my prisoners, in the name of the Majestrix, Lillandra."  
  
Knight Eagle stepped forward, blocking Gladiator from the rest of his team.  
  
"We're no one's prisoners, Gladiator. We wanted only to go on our way in peace. You were the ones who instigated this conflict."  
  
"I know. The Majestrix has great plans for you."  
  
"I don't think we want to have any part in her plans, thanks."  
  
"The choice is not yours, you will come with me now." Gladiator reached for Jason but his hand was swatted away by the battle staff. "Do not try my patience, human. I will deliver you to the Majestrix, either whole, or in pieces. The choice is yours."  
  
The immediate response to Gladiator's threat was a vicious snap kick to his head, which seemed to be the starting bell for round two between the Shi'Ar soldiers and the Round Table. Motion and Courtier emerged from the ship and threw themselves into the fray against the soldiers, while Gladiator squared off against the Knight Eagle.  
  
"You're no match for me, worm."  
  
"Come on, is that second rate villain drivel the best you can come up with?"  
  
Darts sprang from his gauntlets as he dodged a fierce punch from Gladiator, bouncing off his skin. They were only a distraction, though, as the punch had put him off balance, which Jason took advantage of, delivering a double legged kick which propelled him further from Gladiator, while sending the Shi'Ar warrior careening across the room.  
  
Given a few seconds, Jason tapped the comm. link on his wrist.  
  
"Knight Eagle to Guenivere, flight status."  
  
"Tractor beam still engaged. Flight impossible."  
  
Jason felt the compression of air behind him and ducked just in time to miss being pulped by Gladiator's fist. Jason let his power loose, and a wave of purple energy cascaded over him as he grabbed Gladiator's arm, absorbing the kinetic energy of the assault. He spun around with lightning speed and delivered a devastating right hook across the face of his opponent. In the moment that Gladiator was sent flying across the room, it seemed that the Round Table was about to emerge victorious. But only for that moment. The lights in the room suddenly took on a red tinge and they felt themselves slipping into unconsciousness as the oxygen was drawn from the room.  
  
Shortly after, with the air back in the room, Lillandra looked out at the devastation these aliens had caused. She was quite mad, having been driven insane by the power of the Phoenix, which she had tried to tap when stopping her brother from using the M'kran crystal against her. She looked down at the unconscious form of the Knight Eagle and smiled.  
  
"He'll do splendidly." She turned to her guards. "Put them in the cells, and take this one to the lab. We must hurry." 


End file.
